The Reformed Bully
by Rainstar25
Summary: Dudley Dursley is content with his life. He's a boxing champion, he's adored by his parents, and he's respected at his boarding school, Smeltings. But everything changed when invisible creatures called Dementors attacked Dudley and his weird cousin, Harry Potter. Shocked of what he'd seen, Dudley struggles to change as he realizes his life wasn't so special after all.
1. The Dementor Attack

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The Dementor Attack**

Dudley Dursley strutted through the streets of Magnolia Road with his gang, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon. Being the biggest and the strongest in the gang, Dudley was the leader. He was in a good mood; he was just named Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast, and he just beaten up a 12-year-old boy who thought he could get away from Dudley's gang, so his ego was through the roof.

Nobody can beat me, Dudley thought, not even my freak of a cousin, Harry.

"That kid squealed like a pig, didn't he?" said Malcolm.

"Nice right hook, Big D," said Piers.

Dudley swelled at the praise. He loved the feeling of power; the strength he felt every time he won a boxing match, beat up kids, and break the rules - no, he was above rules. Rules didn't control Dudley. His father always said not to let anything control him, and look where it got him; respect, admiration, and power.

The gang stopped at the entrance of Magnolia Crescent.

"Same time tomorrow?" said Dudley.

"Round at my place, my parents will be out," said Gordon.

"See you then," said Dudley.

"Bye, Dud!"

"See ya, Big D!"

The gang parted ways, leaving Dudley behind. He started to walk home, humming a tuneless hum. Then he heard a familiar voice from behind him, making his mood plummet to the ground.

"Hey, Big D!"

Dudley turned around, cursing inwardly. He just had to run into his freakish cousin, Harry Potter. Now his good mood was spoiled just by the appearance of the black-haired, green-eyed boy.

"Oh," Dudley grunted. "It's you."

"How long have you've been 'Big D' then?" said Harry.

"Shut it," Dudley snarled. He turned away from him. He was glad his friends were gone; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of the whole gang because he couldn't beat his cousin. They didn't know about Harry's abnormal abilities.

"Cool name," said Harry, falling into step beside the large, blonde boy. He grinned. "But you'll always be 'Ickle Diddykins' to me."

"I said, SHUT IT!" Dudley yelled, his hands curling into fists. If only Harry didn't have _magic_. He'll be able to beat the crap out of the smug bastard.

"Don't the boys know that's what your mum calls you?"

"Shut your face."

"You don't tell her to shut her face. What about 'Popkin' and 'Dinky Diddydums'? Can I use them, then?"

Dudley said nothing. The only thing keeping him from punching his cousin in the face was his fear of magic.

"So who've you been beating up tonight?" Harry asked, his grin fading from his face. "Another ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago -"

"He was asking for it," snarled Dudley.

"Oh yeah?"

"He cheeked me."

That pathetic boy had dared to cheek Dudley, calling him a "human pig hybrid". After he was finished with him, Mark never stood up to him again.

"Yeah?" said Harry. "Did he say you look like a pig that's been taught to walk on its hind legs? 'Cause that's not cheek, Dud, that's true."

A muscle in Dudley's jaw twitched. How was he able to restrain himself from attacking Harry will always be a mystery to him. Harry and Dudley turned down a narrow alleyway that formed a short cut between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. There were no street lamps, so it was darker than the streets it linked.

"Think you're a big man carrying that thing around, don't you?" Dudley said. Yes, that was the only thing Harry have. That stupid magical stick in his pocket. He was nothing but a spineless coward without it.

"What thing?" Harry asked.

"That - that thing you are hiding."

Harry grinned.

"Not as stupid as you look, are you, Dud? But I s'pose, if you were, you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time."

He pulled out his wand. Dudley looked sideways at it. He remembered the other times magic had hurt him, with the pig's tail and his tongue growing. He didn't want Harry to give him another pig's tail or turn him into a full pig.

But, Dudley thought smugly, he isn't allowed to use magic outside of his damn school.

"You're not allowed," said Dudley at once. "I know you're not. You'd get expelled from that freak school you go to."

"How d'you know they haven't changed the rules, Big D?"

"They haven't," said Dudley, not sounding convinced. Have they really changed the rules?

Harry laughed softly.

"You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have you?" Dudley snarled. Cowardly bastard, he thought in anger.

"Whereas you just need four mates behind you before you can beat up a ten year old. You know that boxing title you keep banging on about? How old was your opponent? Seven? Eight?"

"He was sixteen, for your information," Dudley snarled, "and he was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him and he was twice as heavy as you. You just wait till I tell Dad you had that thing out -"

"Running to Daddy now, are you? Is his ickle boxing champ frightened of Harry's nasty wand?"

Dudley knew he couldn't attack Harry when he got his stupid wand out. Then he remembered Harry's yells that happened almost every night since he got back. He was always screaming a boy's name and calling out to his long-dead parents. Dudley smirked. Now he finally got an advantage!

"Not this brave at night, are you?" sneered Dudley.

"This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this."

"I mean when you're in bed!" Dudley said. He won't be laughing now that I've got him! Dudley thought.

"What d'you mean, I'm not brave when I'm in bed?" Harry said, nonplussed. "What am I supposed to be afraid of, pillows or something?"

"I heard you last night," Dudley said breathlessly. "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked again, but there was a note of fear in his voice that satisfied Dudley.

Dudley gave a harsh laugh and started to cruelly tease his cousin, mocking him. Then Harry pointed his wand at Dudley.

"Don't you point that thing at me!" Dudley yelled in fright, backing into the alley wall. He had never seen Harry this angry before. His bright green eyes turned an icy green, flashing with hatred and anger.

"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry snarled. "D'you understand me?"

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM -"

Then Dudley gasped. All of a sudden, the temperature dropped to a freezing point. The sky that was once filled with the stars and the moon had vanished without a trace, leaving everything into total darkness. Everything - the trees, the street lamps, and even the cars - disappeared into the empty blackness.

Dudley began to shiver as the cold bit into his skin.

"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!" Dudley's voice was filled with terror. How could his cousin do something like this?

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"

Dudley whimpered. This wasn't right. This was all wrong. _All wrong…_

"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

Then Dudley unknowingly did the most idiotic thing he could've done. He punched Harry in the head and ran away.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

But Dudley didn't listen. He blindingly ran, then he squealed and stopped running. He heard voices chanting cruelly in his head. Was he going mad? He didn't want to end up in a mental hospital.

"DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

Keep my mouth shut, Dudley thought fearfully. Why do I have to keep my mouth shut? But, for the first time in his life, he heeded his cousin's advice. The voices were getting louder. Then a memory popped up in his head. A memory of the time he bullied Harry in their primary school days.

 _10-year-old Dudley laughed as Harry tried to get his glasses back from him._

" _What's wrong, freak?" Dudley taunted, holding Harry's glasses high in the air. "Can't see without your stupid glasses?"_

" _Dudley, give it back!" Harry cried, jumping up and down. "You know I can't see!"_

 _Dudley sneered. "You want it back? Fine!"_

 _He broke the glasses in half and gave it to Harry forcefully, pushing him to the ground._

" _Hope you can still use that piece of crap, freak!"_

 _Dudley walked away, leaving Harry on the ground, tears swimming in his eyes._

Dudley shuddered violently. Was he really that mean? No, he was strong. His father said so. Then another memory pushed its way into view. This time, a memory of him throwing a tantrum.

" _You didn't get the video game I wanted!" Dudley cried. It was his ninth birthday; presents piled high on the floor, and yet, despite all the presents he got, the blond boy cried loudly._

" _Sweetums, they didn't have the video game," his mother said soothingly. "It was sold out."_

 _Dudley turned red in the face and wailed loudly. "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE TO ANOTHER STORE!"_

 _The screaming continued. His mother and father tried to calm him down with little success. Finally his father said he could buy Dudley a new computer. That calmed Dudley down, but he was still sniffling._

My God, Dudley thought. Was I that much of a brat? Then the third memory came, a recent memory of him beating up Mark Evans.

" _Call me a 'human pig hybrid', will you?" Dudley growled. His friends joined in. Mark cowered._

" _P-please Dudley! I-I didn't mean to offend you!"_

"' _P-please Dudley!'" Dennis mocked cruelly._

 _Mark started to cry. "Please!"_

" _Hold him, Piers!" Dudley ordered, cracking his meaty knuckles._

 _Piers did as he was told. He held Mark's arm behind his back. Dudley grinned. "You'll never cheek me again after I'm done with you, you snot-nosed shit."_

 _Then Dudley started to punch him, in his face, in his stomach, every inch he could reach. His friends cheered as he punched Mark's nose, making it bleed._

" _If you tell anyone about this," snarled Dudley as Piers let the boy go. "You'll get another beating."_

 _Mark, beaten and bloody, ran away._

Dudley closed his eyes and put his hands over his face, hoping the memories wouldn't return. Every punch Dudley inflicted upon Mark, he felt them as though _he_ was the one getting beaten up.

Why? Dudley thought in shock. Why was I like that?

Then he felt something trying to pull his hands away from his face. Dudley couldn't fight it; he couldn't even see it. _Is this how I'm going to die?_

Suddenly, a bright light toward Dudley. He didn't know what it was. Was it some kind of animal? Did Harry summon it? No, he was the one who caused all this. But then, things returned to normal as though nothing had happened; the temperature returned to normal and stars and the moon lit up the night sky. Dudley only lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking, haunted by his memories.


	2. The Nightmare

**Chapter 2: The Nightmare**

 _Darkness shrouded Dudley as he looked around, confused and scared. The bitter cold licked his body, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. It was like he was experiencing the attack all over again. Except Dudley was alone; he didn't have his cousin to keep him company, which was strange considering he hated his cousin. Then he saw it; a ball of light penetrated the darkness like a sword. Dudley immediately felt the warmth coming from the light, a contrast to the cold the darkness gave. Dudley started to run toward the light, wanting to escape the darkness._

 _But as he got closer, the light started to get engulfed in darkness. Dudley stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the once ball of light change into a tall, hooded figure. He watched in horror as the creature floated toward him, stretching its grayish, slimy hand. Dudley, paralyzed with fear, could only watch as the thing grew closer and closer to him. Suddenly, he saw a memory of his parents giving him sweets and toys while Harry had nothing. Harry didn't protest, but Dudley saw the hurt and jealousy in his green eyes. The creature grabbed Dudley's neck; he struggled, but it did not let go. Terror filled him as the creature slowly pulled back its hood, revealing its eyeless face and large gaping hole where the mouth should be. The creature bent its head to Dudley's mouth as though to give him a kiss..._

* * *

Dudley's forehead glistened with sweat as his eyes snapped open, panting. He sat up in his bed and the bed groaned in protest as he did.

"All right, Dudley," Dudley told himself. "It's just a nightmare. Get over it."

But he couldn't get over it no matter how much he tried. It had been four days since those creatures - Dementors, Harry called them - attacked Dudley and Harry. Ever since then, he had nightmares about those things. But this nightmare was different; it felt too real to be an ordinary nightmare.

Dudley sighed and got out of bed. Maybe getting a drink of water will calm me down, he thought, walking out of his bedroom. He walked down the stairs, wincing as one of the steps creaked under his weight. He didn't want to wake up his parents, especially his mother, who wouldn't stop checking on him since the attack.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Dudley was surprised to see light under the closed kitchen door. He walked to the door as quietly as possible and pressed an ear to the keyhole. He heard the voices of his parents muttering excitedly to each other.

"...we won," his father was saying proudly. "See, Petunia, they recognize a proper garden when they see one."

"Yes," said his mother. "We have to wake up Dudley."

The doorknob jiggled and Dudley took a step back. His father, a large man with a bushy black mustache, opened the door.

"Dudley," Vernon said, surprised. "Why are you up?"

His mother, a bony woman with a long neck, looked at her son worryingly. "Is everything all right, darling?"

"I'm fine," Dudley replied quickly. "I just wanted a glass of water."

"You didn't have any nightmares, did you?" Petunia asked in concern. They knew about his nightmares. How could his parents not known about them, especially when his mother had a habit of treating him like a baby? His mother rushed forward and gave Dudley a hug.

"Of course, he didn't," said Vernon gruffly. "He's a tough man just like his father."

Dudley nodded. He was a strong man; he wasn't afraid of stupid invisible creatures. Harry probably made them up to get himself out of trouble for what he did to him.

"What did we win?" he asked curiously.

"The All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition!" Vernon waved a letter in his hand. "We're going out to get the prize! So, get dressed!"

Dudley turned and walk back to his room, frowning. The All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition? He'd never heard of such a thing. It's probably a secret competition that choose winners randomly, Dudley thought.

When the Dursleys were dressed in their best clothes, Vernon had to make sure the boy stayed in his room. For some reason, Dudley found this unnerving. As he and his mother waited for Vernon, Dudley looked at the cupboard. Suddenly, a vision of the creature in his nightmare briefly flashed in his mind before a memory came forth.

 _His father, red-faced and angry, locked Harry in the cupboard for getting on the school chimney. Harry yelled that he didn't know how he'd gotten on the school chimney, but Vernon wouldn't hear of it..._

Dudley shivered and shook his head. He shouldn't be feeling unnerved over something that happened a long time ago.

His father was back.

"Let's go."

The family walked out of the house, got into the car, and drove off. As they drove, Dudley looked out of the window, thinking. What if Harry really didn't make those Dementor creatures up and saved him as he claimed to have done?

" _And if they get the chance, they'll kiss you."_

" _It's what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth."_

Dudley recalled the events in his nightmare, and a chill went down Dudley's spine. If what Harry said was true, then he didn't just saved his life. He saved his _soul_.

"We should be here by now," said Vernon, breaking Dudley's thought.

"I think this is the place," said Petunia, pointing at a house.

Vernon parked the car. The Dursleys looked at the house in bewilderment. The house looked abandoned with boards nailed to the broken windows, the lawn was filled with overgrown grass and weeds, and the once brown paint was chipping away.

They continued to stare in disbelief at the house for a few minutes. Then Vernon exploded.

"THAT BOY! WE'VE BEEN TRICKED BY THAT FREAK!"

He started the car and drove off, grumbling and swearing all the way. Petunia said nothing; her lips was a thin line, making her look like she sucked a lemon. Dudley, however, couldn't help doubting his father. Harry was in his room the whole time avoiding the family, so it couldn't have been him.

 _Why am I defending the freak?_ Dudley wondered.

When they got home, Vernon stormed Harry's room, shouting. "BOY, YOU BETTER EXPLAIN YOURSELF OR YOU'RE GOING TO WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!"

Then Dudley's father called down from the stairs. "He's not in his room!"

Petunia spotted a letter on the table. She picked it up and read it. "Vernon! _They_ have taken the boy!"

Dudley frowned as Vernon came down the stairs and read the letter. They should have known those unnatural lot had something to do with the fake competition. He went to his room while his father yelled. He took off his clothes, put on his pajamas, and went into bed. Dudley didn't even care at the moment; he was too exhausted from tonight's events to care.

* * *

 **A/N: I would not use the creature as often as I did in the original (when it was just a voice). It will just appear from time to time.**


	3. Mrs Figg

**Chapter 3: Mrs. Figg**

Dudley found himself staring at the ceiling in his bedroom. He massaged his temple, feeling a headache coming. Dudley didn't want to think about his cousin, but thanks to the Dementor things, he couldn't take his mind off him.

He's happy - relieved - that Harry had gone back to his world. However, he couldn't help feeling the emptiness in the house - an emptiness he ignored since his cousin had left for his school for the first time.

No, Dudley thought. I don't miss him, the pathetic boy. But even his own thoughts didn't sound convincing. Then he heard his mother's voice calling his name.

"Dudley! One of your friends want to talk to you on the phone!"

Glad for the distraction, Dudley got out of bed and went downstairs to find his mother holding the phone in one gloved hand.

She smiled adoringly at him. "You're such a popular boy, sweetums."

"Thanks, mum," Dudley answered, hoping his friend didn't hear her. He took the phone from his mother, who resumed to her cleaning in the kitchen.

"Hey, Big D!" said Piers' voice. "How are you?"

"Hey, Piers," Dudley said, happy to talk to a friend. "I'm fine." It was a lie, but how could you tell your oblivious friend that you had gotten attacked by invisible creatures?

"That's good," Piers said. "Listen. Gordon's parents will be out tonight. D'you want to come over and have a bit of fun?"

According to Dudley's gang, fun is causing trouble in the neighborhood. Dudley shuddered as he remembered all the things the Dementors showed him and his nightmare. He couldn't make up an excuse not to hang out because he didn't want to lose face in front of his friend (through a phone, but that's besides the point), so he agreed.

"Great!" said Piers happily. "See you tonight at eight." He hung up.

Dudley looked at his watch; it was seven o'clock so he'll have an hour to kill. He didn't want to stay in the house. He shuddered as his eyes swept over the cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't help it; every time he so much as walk passed the cupboard, an uneasy feeling would enter in the pit of his stomach.

Dudley turned away from the cupboard. No, he thought angrily, my parents are good people. They were trying to help Harry overcome his freakishness. His family did nothing but took in a burden named Harry Potter into their home.

Even so, Dudley did not want to stay in the house any longer. He decided to take a walk through the neighborhood to clear his head.

Before walking out, he called to his mother, "I'm going out to see my friends! I'll be back soon."

"Okay, Dudley," Petunia called back. "Be careful!"

"I will."

Dudley walked out of the house. He didn't have to worry about getting attacked by those things again because Harry was gone. As he walked through the streets, Dudley spotted Mrs. Figg across the street walking home with her crutches. He frowned. She was always a batty cat lady, but there was something off about her. He thought back to the night he and Harry were attacked. He could've sworn he heard an old woman's voice echoing in the background.

Could Mrs. Figg had been there? Dudley questioned to himself. No, she was normal - not by Dursley standards but normal enough. Besides Dudley and Harry, no one was out that night, so there was no way she could possibly had witnessed the attack. Unless…

"No," Dudley muttered to himself. "She couldn't be one of _them_."

Dudley never liked Mrs. Figg. She was the only person who wasn't afraid to call him out about his behavior (not that it'll do much good anyway). Despite his dislike and fear, curiosity took over Dudley; he wanted answers and the possibility of his weird neighbor having them was enough for Dudley to gather his courage.

He crossed the street and walked behind the old woman. "Mrs. Figg?"

Mrs. Figg turned around. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously when she realized who called her name. "Dudley Dursley? What do you want, boy?"

Dudley winced at her rudeness, but he couldn't blame her. She knew his reputation as a bullying thug in Privet Drive.

"I just want to talk to you," said Dudley sincerely.

She raised an eyebrow. "Talk to me? This is one of your tricks, isn't it?"

"No, no," Dudley shook his head. "I really want to talk to you about the night the Demen -"

"Don't talk about that here, idiot boy!" Mrs. Figg hissed, looking around in case people overheard. "Fine, then. Follow me. But if you step one toe of out line, you'll have to answer to me."

Dudley briefly wondered what Mrs. Figg could possibly do to him before remembering that she might be a witch. He followed the old woman to her home. She got her keys out of her purse and opened the door. Dudley walked inside her house behind her, closing the door. He resisted the urge to gag as the smell of cabbage entered his nose.

No wonder Harry didn't like being here, Dudley thought in disgust. But despite the smell of cabbage, the house wasn't really bad. It was surprisingly clean despite the many cats Mrs. Figg owned. The walls were decorated with portraits of her family and - strangely - cats. The thing that stood out the most in Mrs. Figg's house was a large painting that was above the fireplace. It showed a fat middle aged man with dark hair holding an opened book in his hands, looking as though he was reading. For a split second, Dudley thought he saw the man moved a tiny bit, but he dismissed it as a trick of the light.

Mrs. Figg went into the kitchen. "I'll make us some tea while you sit on the sofa."

Dudley nodded and sat down on the purple sofa. A brown cat the size of a bobcat trotted into the room. Its dark green eyes landed on Dudley and it hissed. It unsheathe its claws and growled at him. Dudley grimaced at the look of pure anger on the cat's face. Mrs. Figg came with the tea.

"Calm down, Tufty," she said to the cat, giving the tea to Dudley. "He's our guest."

Tufty sheathe his claws and relaxed, but he looked at Dudley with dislike.

"Your cat is mad," Dudley couldn't help but say. He didn't expect one of Mrs. Figg's cats to be aggressive. Surprisingly, Mrs. Figg chuckled. "Yes, that's what all my cats do when they meet people they don't like."

She sat in the armchair with Tufty in her lap, purring. "Now, you wanted to talk about that night?"

"Yes," answered Dudley. "But I have to ask. Are you a -" he gulped - "a w-witch?"

Mrs. Figg gave a sad sigh. "A witch? No, I am not."

"But how do you know about those things if you're not a witch?"

"I am a Squib," said Mrs. Figg softly. "Sort of the opposite of Muggles. Squibs are people with no powers, but have magical parents."

Dudley looked at her with wide eyes. "That's possible?"

"It is rare, but possible."

It wasn't Mrs. Figg who answered. It was the cat sitting on her lap. Dudley gasped and pointed at the cat, who had a smug look on his face.

"That cat can talk?"

Tufty laughed. "I can talk, kid. Most of the cats in this house can. And before you ask how, I am a half cat half kneazle hybrid. Kneazles are magical cats."

Dudley just gaped at the cat. He had the urge to run out of the house - a house full of _talking cats_ (Dudley inwardly cringed at the thought) - and never look back. But he fought the urge to run away and stayed in his seat.

Mrs. Figg scratched Tufty behind the ear. "No need to scare the boy, Tufty."

"But after what he and his family had done to Harry," he growled, glaring at Dudley. "He deserved it."

Mrs. Figg didn't say anything, but Dudley can see the anger in her eyes. He shifted uncomfortably.

He wanted to say "Harry was a freak" to protest against Tufty's accusations, but he swallowed the words before they could come out. He knew he'll get in trouble for saying such things in Mrs. Figg's house.

Instead he asked, "So why had the Dementors came? They don't appear randomly, do they?"

"No," said Mrs. Figg quietly. She was staring at her tea, not meeting Dudley's eyes. "They were likely sent here."

"They were sent here?" Dudley asked fearfully. "But who would do that?"

"You-Know-Who - _Voldemort_ \- would have."

When Mrs. Figg said the name, the fur on Tufty's neck rose. His dark green eyes widened in terror.

"It's all right, Tufty," Mrs. Figg said to the cat soothingly, but even she shuddered at the name.

Dudley's face crushed up in thought. "Isn't he the wizard who killed Harry's parents? Harry said he was back."

He remembered very little after Harry brought him home; he was too shaken up to recall much that night. He only remembered lots of shouting and owls.

"He is," answered Mrs. Figg grimly.

"Oh," said Dudley, not knowing what else to say. He checked his watch and remembered he was supposed to be with his friends. He got up from the sofa and said, "Thank you for the information, Mrs. Figg, but I have to get go."

Mrs. Figg nodded, but she did not say anything as Dudley walked out of the house.

She looked down at Tufty. "Do you think that boy could change?"

"Who knows?" Tufty replied, jumping off her lap. "But I have hope for the child. I can't say the same for the boy's parents."


	4. Doing What's Right

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own are my OCs who will appear later in the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Doing What's Right**

As he was on his way to Gordon's house, Dudley thought about what Mrs. Figg, his batty old neighbor who turned out to be a Squib of all things, told him. The Dementors were sent to Privet Drive to attack Dudley and Harry. The thought of anyone being able to control those monsters sent shivers down his spine.

Voldemort. Dudley frowned as the name entered his mind. He knew very little about the wizard; he knew he was the one who killed Harry's parents and might be responsible for sending the Dementors, but that was it.

Dudley felt the summer breeze on his skin, cooling him off. He shook his head. Why was he thinking about those weirdos? He should just forget about the Dementors, the nightmares, and Mrs. Figg and move on with his life as though nothing had happened. He shouldn't worry about his cousin's freaky world.

But in his heart, Dudley knew he couldn't forget about that dreadful night even if he tried.

Gordon's house was like the rest of the houses in Privet Drive; a squared house with a perfectly normal lawn. The only thing that distinguish the houses in Privet Drive were the color of the houses; Gordon's house was painted a light brown.

Dudley walked to the door and knocked. There were muffled voices behind the door as one of his friends opened the door. Gordon was a tall muscular boy with a hard-looking face. He smiled at Dudley, showing slightly crooked front teeth.

"Hey, Dud!" said Gordon happily. "Come on in. Piers told you I got the house to myself."

Dudley walked inside and Gordon closed the door behind him. He sniffed as the smell of alcohol drifted into his nose. Malcolm, Piers, and Dennis were sitting on chairs with a bottle of whiskey in their hands.

Dennis, the shortest in the gang, looked up at Dudley. "Big D! Want a bottle?"

Dudley wanted to say "yes" but there was something in the back of his mind that was telling him to refuse the offer. He drunk alcohol before, so he did not know why he was feeling this way. But he didn't want to appear weak in front of his gang, so he accepted the offer.

Piers tossed him a full bottle of whiskey, and Dudley caught it. He opened it and drunk some of it. The drink burned his throat, but he was used to it.

"So, guys," said Malcolm, "I saw this kid riding his little red bike around the park. It's brand-spanking new, that bike. We should show him a thing or two."

Dennis nodded. "He was showing off that thing like it was worth something. He even had the nerve to say that he can get away from us on his bike."

"I wonder what his mum would say if the bike ever gets stolen," Gordon smirked nastily.

"He probably would cry to his mummy, saying he lost the bike," said Piers, laughing.

Dudley snorted. "Wouldn't that be hilarious?"

But Dudley didn't find it funny. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel up to beating up a kid. He felt ill thinking about it. He remembered what the Dementors showed him and how he felt the pain of each of his victims. He didn't want to feel that way again.

But as Dudley was about to change the subject, Gordon drowned his whiskey and threw it in the garbage bin. "Come on. Let's teach the boy a lesson."

The gang cheered in agreement. But Dudley didn't feel as enthusiastic as his friends.

"But what about the bottles?" Dudley asked, hoping they will change their mind.

"Nah," Gordon replied waving a hand dismissively. "My parents will be gone for a while. We can clean up when we get back."

"Oh, okay," Dudley sighed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want his friends to think he'd gone soft on them. But they wouldn't understand why or how. They probably would never understand.

The gang left the house and went to the park. Dennis had informed them that the boy always rode his bike around the park so it didn't take them long to spot the boy.

The kid couldn't be more than ten years old, Dudley thought, feeling disgusted with himself and his friends.

The boy had his back to them and didn't hear them coming until it was too late. Malcolm grabbed the seat. The boy looked behind him and his blue eyes widened in fear.

"So," Malcolm sneered. "I see you got a new bike. Nice-looking, isn't it?"

The boy didn't say anything; he was too scared to speak.

"Would be ashamed if it got stolen," Gordon smirked.

The boy squeaked at the threat. "Please don't take it! I got it for my birthday."

"We don't give a damn how you got it, idiot!" Piers snapped. Gordon lifted the boy off his bike and pulled his arms behind his back.

The boy struggled, but Gordon was too strong. "Go ahead, Big D," he said to Dudley, who was watching with wide eyes. "Take the first punch!"

Dudley gulped nervously. "All right."

Why was he feeling this way? It was just beating up a kid! It was just his normal routine! But Dudley wondered if beating up a defenseless kid is normal.

As he balled his hand into a fist and readied himself to punch the boy, Dudley saw it. Floating a few feet in front of him, was the Dementor exactly like the one in his nightmare. Although he knew it wasn't real (it didn't suddenly turn pitch black and the temperature was still normal), Dudley couldn't help the fear that entered his heart. Suddenly, flashes of his victims came in his mind, their cries of pain flooding his ears. His fist shook.

Damn it, Dudley thought angrily. This isn't right!

"What's the matter, Dudley? Just punch him already!" Gordon yelled impatiently.

Dudley gave a deep sigh and put his fist down. "I can't. I'm...I'm not feeling well."

Gordon, Piers, Malcolm, and Dennis looked at him in shock.

"Fine then," Dennis growled furiously. "We'll just do it ourselves!"

"No!" Dudley cried. "Just put the boy down and leave him alone!"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at him. "Since when did you get soft?"

"I am not!" Dudley protested. "I'm just…" He couldn't find the words to describe his sudden change. Was he going soft? And if so, was it really that bad?

"Weak!" Gordon said, laughing. "Never thought you go soft on us, Big D."

"Just leave the kid and his bike alone," Dudley snarled, "or I'll fight all of you if I have to!"

Gordon, Malcolm, and Dennis looked at Dudley as though they were challenging him. Piers didn't say anything in the fight; he just stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. Finally, Gordon dropped the boy on the ground. The boy quickly got on his bike and rode away as fast as he could.

"Fine," said Gordon. "You're lucky you're the boxing champ. We would've taken you on."

He turned away from Dudley in disgust. "Come on, guys. Let's ditch the softy." He walked away with Malcolm and Dennis following him. Piers stared at Dudley with a frown. He looked torn. Finally, he left with the rest of the gang.

Dudley was alone. The gang was finished. He looked around to see if the Dementor was still there, but it had vanished. He turned and trudged back home miserably.

When he got home, Dudley went to his room. He sat on his bed and sighed. He wondered if he had any friends besides the gang and realized he didn't have any friends outside his now broken gang. He knew he did the right thing for a change, but it didn't take away the fact that he'd just lost his only friends. A part of him couldn't help but wish he could go back to the way things used to be before the monsters came. At least he'd still have his gang.


	5. Back to Smeltings

**Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to the respectful author, J.K. Rowling.**

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 **Chapter 5: Back to Smeltings**

"Duddikins, wake up. You have to get ready for school."

His mother's honey-dripped voice awoke him. Dudley slowly sat up in his bed and sighed. It was already September; summer had came and went like lightning. And honestly, Dudley was glad. He didn't have to look at the cupboard and feel that awful feeling for a year.

His mother's soft knocking came again.

"Dudley, are you up?"

"Yeah," he replied, getting out of bed. The bed groaned in relief as he removed his weight from it. "I'm up."

His things was already packed in his bag. The Dursleys were organized after all. Dudley opened his door and walked to the bathroom. He quickly showered and dressed in his Smeltings uniform (even _he_ thought the uniform was ghastly), and grabbed his Smeltings stick. He went downstairs and the smell of breakfast came to his nose. Dudley's father was already sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper. When he heard Dudley walking down the stairs, Vernon looked up from his newspaper and smiled.

"Ready for another school year, son?" he said proudly.

Dudley nodded as he walked inside the kitchen. "Yes, Dad." He sat down in his chair.

Petunia put Dudley's plate of eggs and bacon. She kissed his forehead. "Oh my little Duddydums," she said tearfully. "Already in his 5th year at Smeltings. You grow up so fast!"

"Mum," said Dudley, embarrassed. He hated it when his mother called him those ridiculous pet names. He thanked God no one had heard his mother call him those names. Dudley made a mental note to talk to his mother about them later.

After the Dursleys ate breakfast, they got Dudley's things and went into the car. During the journey, Dudley thought about what he was going to do at Smeltings. Piers, Malcolm, Gordon, and Dennis had cut all ties with Dudley, leaving him alone for the rest of the summer. Dudley wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he was glad they left him alone; he didn't want to face them again. But on the other hand, he missed hanging with the gang. He stopped hoping his former friends would come around and forgive him; they never will.

But Dudley couldn't avoid them now that he was going back to Smelting. Maybe he'll somehow manage to go on with school not having to confront them? He shook his head. Who was he kidding? When Dudley was the leader of the gang, Gordon was the most vicious one, second only to Dudley. Sooner or later, he'll have to confront his former friends once and for all.

When they arrived at the school, the Dursleys got out of the car. Vernon got Dudley's bag out of the trunk, and handed it to him.

Vernon smiled. "Have a good year, Dudley."

Dudley took his bag out of his father's hand. "Thanks, Dad."

Vernon nodded and went back inside the car.

His mother walked up to Dudley, sniffling. "I'm going to miss you, darling." She hugged him and wept softly.

Dudley resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hoped no one noticed his mother hugging him and weeping like it was the last time she'll ever see him again. Petunia let go, and giving Dudley a loving look one last time, followed her husband back in the car, and they drove off.

Dudley sighed and looked at Smeltings. The red-bricked boarding school was as big as a castle, but it wasn't grand. It was just as dull as any school building, boarding school or not. There were kids streaming inside the school, and some were lurking outside the building, not wanting to go in yet. As Dudley walked to the school, he looked around to see if his former friends were there; thankfully, they weren't. When the students walked inside, the teachers had directed the upper students to sit down at the table while the first years were given keys to their dormitories.

As the first year ceremony came to a close and the food came, Dudley finally saw one of the gang member, Piers, sitting a few feet away from him. Dudley frowned.

Why is Piers by himself? Dudley wondered. Shouldn't he be with the rest of the gang? Maybe Piers had a fight with them, Dudley thought. No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps he just wanted to be alone for whatever reason.

Letting his curiosity of Piers go, Dudley piled his plate with healthy food (he was still on the diet) and started eating. As he ate, he felt eyes burning holes at the back of his head, and he turned around to see Gordon glaring at him. He was with Malcolm and Dennis, who looked at him with respect in their eyes.

Not one to back down, Dudley glared back. It was a staring contest between the two. Finally, Gordon dropped his gaze and returned to his meal. Dudley smirked; as much as he missed the gang, he wouldn't let them intimidate him like that. After the feast, the students went to their dormitories (separated by gender and year) and got into bed. Gordon, Malcolm, and Dennis were in different dormitories, so Dudley did not have to deal with them at night. However, he and Piers shared dormitories with another boy Dudley had never seen before. But surprisingly, Piers did not acknowledge Dudley.

Piers quickly got into his pajamas and went into bed. His rat-like face was facing the wall, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Dudley. Dudley shook his head and climbed into his bed that was top of Piers' bed.

Whatever's up with Piers, Dudley thought, closing his eyes, it probably has nothing to do with me. Little did he know, Piers' reasoning had something to do with him.

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 **A/N: I'm gonna put this out there: this isn't a Piers/Dudley slash. I have nothing against it. I just don't want people to mistake it as such. Reviews are greatly appreciated be it constructive criticism or praise!**


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